It wasn’t that the severing of body parts and removal of internal organs was that much more vicious and sadistic than the other murders. It was more of a wearing-down process. Quinn knew his patience was getting thin. In a case like this, where the investigation seemed to go nowhere, there came a time when the strain reached its breaking point. The killer was aware that he could stretch his good luck only so far, then something he overlooked, or some little something that was supported only by a mass of lies and an alternative reality, would finally give. He would be tripped up, and he knew that moment would someday come, had been getting closer all the time. Quinn knew that some part of the killer’s mind yearned for luck that would see him through, and at the same time he wanted something out of his control that would end the suspense. In glory and gunfire, it would end. And no one would ever forget what the Gremlin had done. No one would ever forget the Gremlin. The public would eventually forget what Quinn had done.
